fic: a walk in the park

[marcicatverse]

Title: a walk in the park
Author: marcicat

Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 9250

Summary: First there is jogging, then explosions, then everyone sort of wonders what's happening. Eventually, Pepper gets it all sorted.

Author’s Note: Loosely follows look to the sky for love, warn the neighbors, and howling down the moon. Bucky’s a telepathic werewolf, because that is a seriously handy plot device. Also, the Avengers are awesome, and I like fics with kids in them.



Title: a walk in the park
Author: marcicat


*** Darcy ***

The Avengers Initiative had its own gym, of course — possibly more than one; that seemed like the sort of thing SHIELD would do. But after the whole ‘Loki trapped us in an alternate dimension, it was non-lethal yet highly embarrassing’ incident, there had been a series of meetings (always “meetings,” never “opportunities for Fury to yell at you”) that she had thankfully not been invited to, and now the Avengers had mandatory workouts in the regular gym like everyone else.

The betting pool was pretty evenly divided on the goal of said workouts being ‘Avengers team bonding’ versus ‘morale booster for everyone else.’ One of the (probably) unintentional side effects was a sudden increase in off-base jogging among the more socially averse team members. (After all, jogging in public fulfilled the letter of the rule, if not the spirit, and since no one was willing to say exactly what the spirit was…)

Which led, apparently, to this.

“So will you come?”

She reviewed the last few minutes. Getting to the lab, logging on to her computer, Bucky skulking out of nowhere, something about Steve and Bruce, and now he was standing there looking at her expectantly. “What?” she said. (In her defense, usually Bucky didn’t come find her until lunch, when she was all-the-way awake.)

“Steve stole my running partner for a tour of New York campuses. Fury won’t let any of us out on our own, so I’m asking you.”

She tried to imagine Captain America and Bruce Banner jogging around New York’s universities. Then she thought about the likely reaction of students to such an event. Since she hadn’t seen anything on the internet… She said, “When, exactly, are they running?”

Bucky grinned. “Early. Pre-dawn.”

She winced. “Late, you mean.”

“Fury didn’t specify a time,” Bucky said, all innocence.

“I’m not running at dawn,” she warned him. Also, she was pretty sure she didn’t actually count as an acceptable “off-base escort,” but if he wasn’t going to mention it, she wasn’t either. Plus, Fury and the helicarrier were on the other side of the globe.

“If we go now, we could be back in an hour,” he offered.

It was possibly the first time he’d asked her directly for anything since the ipod headphones. She wasn’t beyond wondering about the possibility of shape-shifting impostors, but it seemed less likely than just wanting out from under the ever-watchful eyes of SHIELD. “Right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

She should have guessed, really, that something would go wrong. There was probably a flowchart about these things hanging somewhere in the SHIELD building.

*Call for backup!* Bucky’s mental voice sounded strained.

*Way ahead of you,* she sent back. She was already on the phone to SHIELD’s emergency line. “This is Darcy Lewis,” she said. “I’m with Bucky Barnes at Nolan Park, and we’re under attack.”

“Hold please.”

The next voice was one she recognized. “Lewis, what are you doing at Nolan Park?” Coulson sounded more long-suffering than alarmed, which probably meant they were already en route, but hadn’t gotten satellite imagery up yet.

“Jogging, sir,” she said. “Well, right now I’m hiding behind a tree, but before that there was jogging.” Which was mostly true. Nolan was an off-leash park, and Bucky had spent the first thirty minutes running around with wolf-y abandon, while Darcy played it cool and told everyone who asked that he was a rescue dog, and no, she had no idea why he looked so much like a wolf. Then the giant robots showed up, and she’d been evacuating the civilians when she’d heard an ominous yelp from Bucky’s general direction. He was still talking, but only sporadically, and the giant robots had the park pretty much locked down.

“Can you get out?” Coulson asked.

“No can do. Giant robots everywhere. And I think they’re building something. It doesn’t look like a bomb.”

Another voice cut into the line. “Would you know if it did?” It was probably Stark; the armor always made his voice sound funny.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say ‘I recognize the team, does that count?’ but she didn’t think Coulson would appreciate it. “Probably not,” she said instead.

“ETA twenty seconds,” Coulson said. “Is Lieutenant Barnes still in his wolf form?” (It was a sore point with SHIELD that Bucky continued to refuse to transform where they could study him, but so far “not pissing off Captain America” was winning out over scientific curiosity.)

“He was when I called in; I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Looks like Cap’s getting an earful for both of you,” Stark broke in. “We can’t see him, but he’s still squawking.”

There was no need to announce the exact moment of their arrival on the scene. The Quinjet screamed to a stop, hovering improbably above the park. She risked a glance around her tree to watch Thor leap out of the plane. She’d seen it before, but blurry camera-phone footage couldn’t compare to the in-person experience.

After that it was mostly a lot of things going boom. Her phone cut out on her with a fizzling pop after a too-close-for-comfort explosion, but she was relatively sure the Avengers were winning. Except then the Quinjet blew up, and she ducked and covered because that was not supposed to happen, and her ears were still ringing when everything went sparkly and suddenly looked a whole lot bigger. Or — no, she was a lot smaller. She didn’t want to think it, but the phrase “child-sized” would probably not be incorrect.

Darcy was very, very tempted to have a quiet breakdown behind her tree, but it sounded like the fighting had stopped, and maybe someone needed help. Or (even better) maybe someone could figure out what had happened and un-shrinkify her. She took a deep breath and headed towards the middle of the park.

“What. The fuck.” Someone who looked like a cranky six-year-old, but had to be mini-Clint, crossed his arms and glared around him. She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Is everybody all right?” Steve asked. He looked like a kid wearing a Captain America costume, except the shield was still its normal size.

*Steve did not look like that as a kid,* she heard in her head.

There was a chorus of ‘yes’s and then Stark popped up out of the rubble with a wrench in his hand, halfway out of the armor. “Bigger question,” he said. “How come the armor was affected and the shield wasn’t?”

“I’m not sure that’s —“

“This was my favorite armor,” Stark interrupted. “It’s completely fried!”

Coulson — Phil, because she couldn’t think of him as Coulson when the only gravitas he could muster was that of a pouting child — sighed. “This report is going to be so dumb,” he said, kicking a piece of exploded robot. “Jet falls on robot machine; team de-ages. There’s no form for that.”

“I don’t think it’s exactly de-aging,” Hank said. “Tony still has the arc reactor.”

Jan tugged her uniform down a revealing few inches, and craned her neck around at an angle that made Darcy stare. “I still have a tattoo,” Jan announced proudly. Which she supposed told them something, possibly that whatever happened had no rhyme or reason to it. Great.

“Hey! Kids! Get away from there!” The police were picking their way through the mess towards them. On the outskirts of the park, she could see them setting up a perimeter, with news vans already gathering behind it.

Phil mumbled something that made Clint and Natasha giggle, and Steve looked about two seconds away from stomping his foot. Maybe the de-aging thing was more than just physical? Still, they managed to form a rough sort of line-up.

Steve stepped up first (of course), with Jan and Hank on either side. Tony was still prying his way out of the armor, but he managed to look at least halfway presentable next to Jan — mostly because he was leaning on Thor, who was whispering furiously to an unmasked T’Challa. (She hadn’t even known Thor could whisper.) Bruce was lurking in the back with her and Phil. Clint and Natasha were at the end, though they were less “lurking” and more “didn’t like dealing with police.” She felt a nudge at her knee, and there was Bucky, finally, covered with robot dust and looking very much like a puppy.

*You okay?* she thought at him carefully.

*Peachy,* he sent back. She rolled her eyes.

Steve said, “Officer, I know this might look odd, but we’re not actually children. We’re the Avengers. There was an incident with unknown technology; the tech has been neutralized but we’ve been, well. We’re working on it.”

The police officer stared at them. “The who?” he said.

“The Avengers,” Steve repeated. “I’m Steve Rogers. Captain America?” He hefted the shield a little higher off the ground.

All it got him was a frown. “Look, I don’t know what you kids are playing at, but you can’t be here. This is an active crime scene. Where are your parents?”

“We’re adults,” Tony said. “Do you watch the news? Team of brightly-colored heroes defending the city? We fight stuff like, oh hey, giant robots!”

“NYPD liaises with all recognized heroes and teams,” the officer said. “There are no Avengers, and there certainly is no team of children, so watch your tone. If you don’t have an adult guardian here, you’re going to need to come to the station until we can get in touch with them and get everything sorted out.”

That didn’t seem like a good thing, and Steve shook his head. It was Natasha who shouldered her way to the front and pointed towards the edge of the park. “That’s our babysitter,” she said. “He was watching us. We were having a costume party.” When the officer turned to look, she elbowed Steve and hissed, “Play along!”

There was a brief radio conversation between the officer and someone else that Darcy didn’t pay any attention to. She sat down instead. Then someone not in a uniform was ducking under the police tape and headed in their direction. She squinted.

*Who’s that?* she heard from Bucky.

*Peter Parker, I think,* she sent back. She hadn’t met the guy yet, but she’d seen his folder making the rounds at SHIELD. *He’s Spiderman, maybe, but I guess it’s supposed to be a secret?*

*No way.* Darcy shrugged. It was possible she wasn’t officially supposed to know anything about it, but she wasn’t sure. Best case scenario, the police officer was just lying about not recognizing them, and Parker would be their ticket out of the park and back to SHIELD. The expression on his face, however, didn’t seem to be indicative of the best case scenario.

“Is there a problem, officer?” he asked. Before he could say anything else, Jan broke from the group and ran for his legs. She held her arms up in the universal ‘pick me up’ gesture, and he did — apparently, Jan was irresistible at any age.

“Are you responsible for these children?” the officer said, doubt filling his tone.

And maybe Parker was hiding a secret identity, because she would have sworn he wasn’t lying when he didn’t even blink, just said, “I thought they were right behind me when the park was evacuated, but we must have gotten separated. Is everyone okay?” The question was addressed to Jan, who nodded.

The officer still looked skeptical, but he also looked willing to be convinced that the dozen filthy, belligerent children in front of him weren’t his problem any more. Natasha pushed him over the edge by saying, “I’m hungry, can we go home now?” and then starting to herd everyone in Parker’s direction. The police officer hesitated, but something conveniently exploded in the rubble behind them, and finally he just waved them off with some sort of warning about being more careful.

She half-expected Parker to start asking questions as soon as they got past the edge of the park. There was a moment where he turned to look at them all, like he couldn’t quite believe it, and she held her breath. Steve was carrying Bucky. Thor was carrying the hammer, and Tony was leaning more and more heavily on Bruce. Phil kept checking his phone (still broken, obviously) and Natasha kept checking her knives, though not when Parker was watching. It was not, she could understand, a picture likely to put anyone at ease.

But Parker just shook his head. “We’ll go back to my place first, okay? It’s not far from here. Try not to knife me before we get there.” Natasha looked embarrassed. Darcy was impressed.

*Spiderboy’s got hidden depths,* Bucky sent sleepily.

*Shouldn't you be staying awake?* she sent back.

*That’s just for head injuries. Besides, you guys can handle this.*

“He used to do this all the time,” Steve assured her when she moved up next to him. “He’ll probably wake up as soon as we get there and be starving.”


*** Peter ***

At least Aunt May was out of town. If there was one saving grace to the day — a day that included his spider sense going nuts since before sunrise, not getting a crack at the action in the park as either Spiderman or photographer, and walking through the city trailing (really weird) children behind him like ducklings — it was that he wouldn’t have to explain any of it to his aunt.

It was a snap decision, back in the park. As he watched them shuffle into the house — half of them limping, half obviously checking weaponry — he hoped it wasn’t one he’d regret later. “Kitchen,” he said, in what was hopefully a convincing tone. They were all covered with dirt, and linoleum would be easier to clean. “Everyone sit down.” They actually listened to him, which he hadn’t really expected. It didn’t get any less confusing after that.

“Do you recognize us?” one of them asked.

He didn’t. “Should I?”

“We’re the Avengers,” the kid said. “I’m Captain America.” He pointed at each of the others around the room. “Iron Man, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Wasp, Ant Man, Hulk, Thor, Black Panther, Agent Coulson, Miss Lewis.”

Yeah, he was never going to remember those. Also, Ant Man? (Though he figured ‘Spiderman’ didn’t exactly have the high ground when it came to cool names.) Ignoring everything else, he said, “And a wolf?”

“This is Bucky. He can’t change back right now; we’re not sure how the — whatever it was, that happened — will interact with him.” There were a few seconds of silence as the kids exchanged loaded glances.

Peter sighed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of the Avengers. I assume you’re not usually…”

“Children? No. In the park, there was some kind of device. It exploded.”

Well, that was certainly true enough. Something had definitely exploded in the park. But a device that turned adults into children and then made everyone forget them? That sounded completely implausible — and, he realized, exactly like something that would happen to a team of superheroes.

“Right,” he said. “What do you need?”

“You believe us?” It was the limping kid who asked the question. He looked like there was an unspoken ‘are you nuts?’ on the tip of his tongue.

Peter shrugged. The way he figured things, it didn’t really matter if he believed them. They needed help, he could provide it. Not like he didn’t skip class for worse reasons every other day. “I’ll count it as my community service for the week,” he said.

And that was that. They asked for a first aid kit, a computer, and vast quantities of food. Peter was upstairs looking for more clothes that might fit them (Aunt May kept everything; it was just a matter of finding it) when one of the boys raced into the room and slid to a stop. “Bruce just aged up!”

“What?” As soon as he said it, he held up a hand to interrupt the answer. “Never mind. Which one’s Bruce?” He was glad they’d agreed to go by their civilian names, but once they were out of their costumes and wearing oversized t-shirts, they all looked a lot more the same. (Enough so he was glad one of them was a wolf, because at least that one was easy to identify.)

The kitchen was as chaotic as he’d left it — but instead of eleven kids and a wolf, there were ten kids, a wolf, and a teenager. “I don’t know what happened,” the teenager (must be Bruce, he figured) was saying. “I was meditating, and then everyone was shouting at me and I was older.”

Peter sighed — why did interesting things always happen when other people were meditating? It never worked like that for him. “Hey,” he said. Since he’d just heard the answer to the most obvious question, he went with, “What have you found?”

One of the girls kicked her heels against the counter she was perched on. “We’re not in an alternate universe,” she offered.

The boy at the computer frowned at her. “Of course not. We’re here; we’re all over the internet. Photos, interviews, everything — there’s some kind of disconnect between that and —“ He waved his hand. “People.”

The one whose name Peter could remember (Thor) shook his head. He was sitting on the floor, next to the hammer only he could lift. “I sense Loki’s hand in this. It is powerful magic.”

“Powerful, but localized. We called Fury; he’s on the other side of the globe. He knew who we are.”

None of the expressions he was seeing reflected the ‘yay we’re not crazy’ feeling he was expecting. “And?” he prompted.

The one who’d come to find him scowled — these were some seriously cranky kids — and said, “He laughed at us. Told us to call back if the world needed saving.”

“Small problem, though.” The one at the computer tapped the screen. “We should at least be able to contact SHIELD headquarters. Or Stark Tower, that would actually be more useful. But we can’t.”

“SHIELD won’t pick up because you’re calling from Spiderman’s house; I keep telling you that.”

And that made him flinch, but suddenly they were all talking at once. One of them sidled over, looking guilty. “We’ve known — suspected, at least — for a while. And I looked in your closet when we first got here. Sorry,” she added, though it didn’t sound very apologetic.

“It’s fine,” he told her. “Awkward, but fine. Actually, I’m not sure which part is worse — that you look like a kid, or that you’re really an adult.”

She grinned at him, then waded back into the conversational battle. He weighed his options. He could yell, but the neighbors might hear it. Ditto on throwing something — plus he really didn’t want to have to explain to Aunt May how anything got broken while he was “spending a few quiet days at home.” And honestly, did he want all of them focusing on him at once? (Probably not.)

He grabbed a notepad and a pen and poked the kid who’d run upstairs. “What’s your name?” he said.

“Clint,” the kid said, sounding suspicious. Great. Cranky, guilty, suspicious — these kids were real prizes in the personality department.

Out loud, he answered, “Nice to meet you. Who’s that at the computer?”

A second kid popped up on his other side. “That’s Stark; you can tell ‘cause he has the arc reactor.” He tapped his own chest to demonstrate. “I’m Phil. Can I have a pen too?”

“Sure,” Peter said, and when he turned around to grab one, the boys moved to stand side by side. Clint visibly relaxed in Phil’s presence; Peter pretended not to notice. “So that’s Bruce,” he said instead, pointing. “And Jan, and Thor.”

One by one, Clint helped him identify everyone in the room, while Phil jotted down notes on a piece of paper that seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Tony needs shoes,” he said at one point. “We can’t go on the subway without shoes.”

Peter wasn’t completely sure how Phil had gotten to the point of planning subway trips, but he couldn’t deny that yes, it would be helpful if everyone had some sort of footwear. “How come he doesn’t have any?”

“His armor got fried,” Clint said. “None of our gear got shrunk; just our uniforms.”

Bruce — done participating in whatever argument the rest of the group had moved on to — leaned over to read Phil’s notes. “That’s why Bucky can’t change back,” he said, like it was obvious. “We’re fifty-fifty on tech changing with the person, and it’s stupid to risk it when he’s doing fine as a wolf. Also, I can’t go on the subway.” He pointed at something on the paper, and Phil nodded. (Honestly, Peter had no idea how these people operated as citizens, let alone superheroes.)

“We don’t know that you have the ability to call the Hulk in this state.”

“You really want to risk it?”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, which was actually pretty funny to watch. Finally, Phil said, “I suppose not.”

“Just so you know, I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” Peter said. “If that’s important.”

Phil just looked at him. “It’s not. Can you drive?”

“I live in New York; why would I be able to drive?” More staring from Phil’s direction. (More unnerving or less when he was an adult?) He sighed. “Fine, yes, I can.” (He could. Mostly.) “But I don’t have a car, or anything.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Clint said, and Peter tried to ignore the fact that his tone included an unspoken ‘we can steal cars if we need to.’ He’d obviously fallen into some kind of bizarro-world, populated with child-sized hero-criminals.

He said, “Just out of curiosity, how many of you have criminal records?”

Bruce looked around the room. “In the States, you mean?” (And didn’t that just answer the question right there.)

“Forget it,” Peter told him. “So, a plan? You have one?”

Phil nodded. Clint shrugged, but then he climbed up on the counter and gave a piercing whistle. In seconds, the kitchen was silent and everyone was looking at Phil. It was — possibly — more disconcerting than impressive.

“There are two main objectives,” Phil said calmly. “One: why are we unable to contact SHIELD headquarters. Two: what is keeping people from remembering who we are.”

Tony boosted himself up on a chair and waved his hands around. “I think you’re forgetting something — hello, yes, over here. Still children. Can we put that back at the top of the objective list?”

“Bruce has proven that we can fix that part ourselves. We need to focus on finding out what happened and making sure the city can defend itself. What do you think would happen if more of those robots showed up now?”

“The Four would handle it.” Tony kicked at the back of the chair sullenly. “Stupid Reed.”

“Wait, the Fantastic Four? You know them?” Peter had run into them a few times, but never face to face (so to speak). There was a sort of generalized grumbling, which he took to mean ‘yes, we do, but we’re not besties and don’t like to talk about it.’

“Tony thinks the Fantastic Four aren’t responsible enough,” Bruce explained. “Reed Richards in particular.”

“He keeps opening dimensional portals without telling anyone!” Tony said.

Bruce countered with, “Last week you blew up your lab.”

“Not without telling anyone!”

Clint whistled again, then looked like he was pretending he hadn’t. Phil kept talking like nothing had happened. “Two objectives, two groups. Natasha, Clint, Darcy and I will go back to SHIELD. Tony, T’Challa, Bucky, you’re with us — if we can’t get into the building any of the usual ways, you’ve all gotten in past security before, and I assume you can do it again.”

“Steve, you’ll take Hank, Jan, Bruce, and Thor to the Baxter Building to alert the Fantastic Four and see if their sensors can detect anything useful. Find some phones, if you can. Until then all communication will have to go through Barnes.”

“Great, I’m a radio,” Darcy said.

Peter felt like he’d missed something like ninety percent of that explanation. No one seemed inclined to hang around going over it with him, so he said, “What about me?”

“A group of kids wandering through the streets is going to look suspicious even in New York,” Natasha said. “Congratulations; you’re our babysitter.”


*** Darcy ***

“I’m bored.” It turned out it wasn’t that hard to sneak into SHIELD headquarters when you had a team full of ninjas and geniuses. No one answered, so she said it again. “I’m bored."  Darcy kicked her heels against Coulson's desk.  "So bored.  Beyond belief bored."

No one answered, but she wasn't really expecting them to.  Tony and T'Challa were off collecting tech, and Clint, Natasha, and Phil had disappeared into the ceiling ages ago.  (Clint's imperious "Boost me," to Peter had been hilarious, especially when Natasha vaulted herself up after him like it was nothing.)

Peter and Bucky were the only ones other than her still in the office, and Bucky was deep in telepathic communication with Steve (ignoring her repeated attempts to pester him into entertaining her).  She looked speculatively at Peter.  "Really, really bored," she repeated.

He raised his eyebrows at her.  "You could try meditating.  Maybe you could age up; then they'd have you to drive them around and I could go home."

She rolled her eyes back at him.  "You love it.  You should join up, I bet Steve would love to have someone else on the team with a red and blue costume.  The benefits package is nothing to sneeze at either."

"I have a job," Peter said, looking at the ceiling.

"You have leftover ramen in your fridge," she countered.  "That's like, the ultimate in poor choices."

Peter didn't respond.  She kicked the desk again.  "Peter.  Peter.  Peter. Peter."

Finally, he looked away from the ceiling.  "What?"

"Is it a cry for help?" she said.

"What?"

"The ramen, I mean," she said  "Is it a cry for help?  Too much sodium is associated with hypertension, you know.  Maybe you should be meditating."

Peter sighed.  "It's not a cry for help."  He made a face at the words.  "I live with my aunt.  She won't let me eat it, so I save it for when she's away on one of her trips."

He looked embarrassed.  "Thor loves poptarts," she offered.  "Director Fury thinks it may be a problem."

"Really?"

She shrugged.  She had yet to meet anyone at SHIELD whose eating habits didn't resemble a college student's, but she mostly hung out with the scientists.  Thor hadn't exactly been exposed to the best role models on his first trip to Earth; bad food habits seemed to have imprinted.

The phone rang.  Peter looked at her.  "It'll forward," she said.  "Coulson's not usually here anyway."

It did, or at least it looked like it did, after the usual two rings.  But then the line disconnected, and "unknown number" called back.  Three times in a row.

"Someone's going to hear that and get suspicious eventually," Peter said.

“Well, I can’t pick it up; I sound six,” Darcy told him. In her head, Bucky started paying attention.

Peter took a breath. The phone rang again, and he snatched it up. “Agent Coulson’s office,” he said, stone cold calm. She gave him a thumbs up. (Then, of course, he got all pale and hit the speaker button.)

"You're on speaker now," Peter said.

"Good."  It was Director Fury.  Darcy really wished one of the others was there to handle this.  "Now, what are you doing in my building?"

"This is Darcy Lewis," she said, when it became clear Peter wasn't planning on saying anything.  "Just some basic information gathering, really.  Clint said he called you."

"Agent Barton didn't mention anything about breaking into a secure facility," Fury said.

"We didn't break in," she protested.  "Our access codes still work."  They hadn't used the front door, but it was a big building.  Plenty of other ways to get in and out.

She was pretty sure the sound that came next was Fury sighing, or possibly just audible disappointment.  He said, "Where's Rogers?"

"He didn't come with us."

"Fine.  Where's Stark?  I know he's there, I can feel it in my blood pressure."

"He's with T'Challa.  Probably in the labs."  Probably stealing a quinjet, but no way was she going to say that out loud.  "Coulson's in the ceiling, with Clint and Natasha."  She could at least save him the trouble of asking about each person individually.

"The ceiling.  Of course."

The door opened, and Tony stuck his head in.  She waved him back as Fury made his sighing sound again. “Tell Stark if he blows up another jet I’m going to ground him for a month. And keep me apprised. Just not too apprised.”

“Yes, sir,” she said carefully. It wouldn’t do to sound overly enthusiastic. (It wasn’t that she didn’t know that Fury knew that she wasn’t being entirely truthful — most conversations she had with Fury were like that. Some things were better left unsaid.)

“And Lewis?”

“Yes?”

“Get out of my building.”

The line disconnected, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Tony sauntered into the room. “Fury?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Jet’s ready to go; the others are meeting us on the roof. We’re taking the non-ceiling route.”

He handed her a -- "What is this?"

"It's your headset," Tony said, tossing one in Peter's direction.  He caught it without looking, which was pretty cool.  "We need to be able to talk to each other without depending on wolf radio if we split up again."

"And SHIELD keeps kid sized headsets around as part of their contingency planning?" Peter asked.

"What?  No, of course not.  Well, possibly, I wouldn't put it past them, but why borrow crummy tech when you can just make your own?  That's not what slowed us down, anyway."

He didn't elaborate on what did slow them down, just slipped back into the hallway like he had absolute confidence they'd follow him.

"Is he always like that?" Peter said.

Darcy shrugged.  What could she say?  'No, sometimes he's more like that' probably only made sense if you knew the guy.

The hallways were suspiciously empty. It occurred to her that at least the “meetings” Fury would hold after this was over were likely to be focused on security, not fitness. On the other hand, if they blew up another jet, no one would be safe from his wrath. He’d probably make everyone go to engineering classes, or something.

*Well, that didn’t work. What did I miss?* Bucky bounced up the stairs like a — well, like a puppy.

*Huh?* Not her best comeback.

*We’re leaving, right? And I’m still tiny, so I’m still as bad at that routine as ever, I guess.*

*Wait, you weren’t talking with Steve that whole time?*

*No. He checked in; everything’s fine. They haven’t even gotten there yet. I was trying to age up, like Bruce. You’re pretty distracting, though.*

It was hard to know whether she should apologize for that. *Sorry,* she offered, just in case.

*Don’t worry about it. Nice job with Fury. Think he knows we have Spiderman with us?*

*Probably.* She didn’t want to say ‘he’s kind of creepy that way’ even in her head, but she thought Bucky kind of got the gist of it anyway.

They reached the roof just in time to see Clint and Phil tumble out of an air duct, laughing. Natasha followed much more gracefully, but she was laughing too. T’Challa, naturally, was already in the jet. She’d bet he could fly it, even — they probably taught stuff like that in the womb in Wakanda.

“I would like to go on record as not liking this,” Tony said, once everyone was inside.

Phil adjusted his headset. “The Avengers are off-site more than on. You’ve never had a problem leaving SHIELD property undefended in the past.”

Clint’s voice came in her ear. “They don’t even know who we are; they won’t miss us.”

“Yeah, but Phil’s always been there before. Who’s even in charge right now?”

Tony looked pretty upset, which was interesting. She didn’t usually see him when he wasn’t visiting the labs, but she wasn’t unaware of the fact that a lot more went on around the team than lab work.

*Uh-oh. We’ve got a problem,* Bucky said. *They’re under attack.*

“Someone’s attacking Steve?” she said out loud, and suddenly everyone’s eyes were on her. She desperately tried not to think about Lassie.

It didn’t work, but Bucky sounded more amused than irritated. *He’s not stuck down a well, at least. They got to the Baxter Building, but the building has security systems that are being unfriendly.*

“They’re fighting with the Baxter Building security systems,” she reported.

“Who sets up security systems that shoot at kids?” Tony said. “Are the Four even there?”

Natasha gave him a ‘are you kidding?’ look. “Please tell me Stark Tower can defend itself against children.”

“Of course it can. Hordes of children. Ninja children! Maybe not you as a child,” he conceded. “Other children. It just doesn’t shoot first.”

In her head, Bucky coughed. *Pretty sure Thor threw the first punch this time, metaphorically speaking. He still has trouble with that whole ‘ethereal voice’ concept.*

“Bucky says it was Thor’s fault,” Darcy translated.

“Ah,” Natasha said. Darcy guessed no one wanted to say ‘well, that makes sense,’ but she was pretty sure they were all thinking it.

“Any word on whether Bruce can still Hulk out?” Clint asked, addressing Bucky directly.

*Not yet,* Bucky said. *Give it a few minutes, though. Steve just took out a wall.*

Darcy raised her eyebrows. “Uh, no, but they’re maybe approaching that point. Steve knocked down a wall?”

Clint nodded. The jet took off, and Tony said, “I got this,” at the same time. She did a quick check to make sure Tony wasn’t actually flying (word on the street — okay, the cafeteria — was that he tended to get distracted and forget that Jarvis wasn’t going to take over the controls if he stopped paying attention). It was Phil and Natasha at the front, though, and that was probably fine.

*What’s he doing?* Bucky asked, and went as far as putting a paw up on the back of Tony’s seat to get a closer look.

“Oh, hey,” Tony said. “No drooling on the screen, pal. I’m just introducing us to the Four’s security programs. It’s neighborly, or something. T’Challa, a little help here?” Tony’s explanation, if it could be called that, switched over to muttering and scowling.

T’Challa said, “The easiest thing would be to destroy the system, but that would leave the building unprotected. Better to fool the system into believing our teammates are no longer a threat.”

“That should do it,” Tony said. “Steve, you good there?”

*He realizes I’m not actually a radio, right?*

But Steve’s voice came back over the comm system. “We’re good; security systems are down. How much are the Four going to yell at us for whatever you just did?”

“Bucky and Darcy said you took out a wall,” Tony said. “You looking for an over/under on damages, or just making conversation?”

Natasha laughed, and Phil said, “They don’t actually know who we are right now. You know, technically speaking.”

“No,” Steve said.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Tony replied.

“No, I will not graffiti your name on anything,” Steve clarified, and this time Clint laughed too.

“Come on, not even an ‘A’ for Avengers?”

“One minute out,” Natasha interrupted. “Finish up whatever you can; looks like the Four are inbound as well.”

No one was going to suggest actually making contact with the Fantastic Four at that point, she guessed. Probably a good idea, although if they were anything like the Avengers, they were used to their living space being “remodeled” on a regular basis.

“Why not just ask them for help?” Peter asked. (Then again, maybe someone was going to suggest it.) “They have a flying car.”

“We have a jet. Are you questioning the jet?” Tony said.

The eyeroll was practically audible. “Oh, no. I have complete confidence in the grade schoolers currently keeping us in the air. It’s just — they could help, right? I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but so far I’ve contributed nothing except snacks. I could be in class right now, doing a little thing I like to call ‘not flunking out of school.’”

“We’ll write you a doctor’s note,” came Jan’s voice over the speaker.

"Thor, can you still fly? We don't have time to land and take off again before we have company."

"Of course!" Thor's voice boomed out from the speakers, and how did he even do that when he was tiny-sized?

"I'm good too, as long as you get close-ish," Jan said.

That was still going to leave Steve, Hank, and Bruce, unless they wanted to start experimenting with Pym particles and gamma radiation on their mini-me versions. *Five bucks says Coulson planned it this way so Spiderboy gets to show off.*

*You think?* Darcy looked at Peter. *Is he even suited up?*

*Does he need to be? SHIELD's gonna know in a couple minutes either way.*

*Phil will know.* She and Bucky were currently agreeing to disagree about Phil's loyalties. (In the sense that she pestered him about Phil being more Avenger than operative, and he acted suspicious and unconvinced.)

Phil gave her a sharp look as he twisted around in his seat -- she waved, and he moved on to frowning at Peter. "You're up," he said. "You can do this, right?"

"Do what?" Peter asked. The jet wavered, then steadied, and the back hatch opened up. "Oh," he said.

Darcy edged back from the opening in as surreptitious a way as she could manage, which wasn't much.  Bucky was right there with her, pressed tight against her knees.  It was hard to say who was reassuring who, really.

Peter headed right for it, though -- he even leaned out a ways before stepping back and making a face in Phil's general direction.  "I see what you're doing here.  Who's going to get blamed for trashing the Baxter Building?  Not those cute tots on the security footage, no way.  Maybe it was Spiderman!  And now they'll have video to back it up, even."

He was pulling his hoodie off as he said it, though -- and whaddya know, he was suited up.  She whistled, and Bucky huffed what was probably the equivalent of a laugh in wolf.  Peter ignored both of them.  "It's clever.  I like it.  Kinda sucks being the smokescreen, but someone's got to do it, right?" And then he leapt out of the plane anyway, whooping, like it was the most fun he’d had all day.

“I feel a little bad now,” Darcy said.

“I don’t,” Phil answered.

Thor hit the deck with a gust of wind, and less than his usual flair. Hank was clinging to his shoulders, which she’d take a picture of if she’d thought to grab a camera back at SHIELD. Peter swung back in after him, with Bruce in one arm. (Bruce looked a little green around the edges, but she was pretty sure that was nausea, not Hulk making an appearance.)

Jan buzzed in right behind them, as Peter threw himself back out of the jet. “Why isn’t he on the team?” Jan said. “We are allowed to invite people who haven’t tried to kill us, right?”

Finally, Peter and Steve tumbled in together, and someone hit the switch to close the hatch. Steve was laughing. “We have got to do that again sometime,” he said.

“Everyone’s in,” Clint called. “Let’s get out of here.”

It was a tight fit with all of them together, even much smaller than usual. *Do you think they know where we’re supposed to go now?* she thought. The jet was awesome, but it’s not like they could land it in Parker’s yard.

*Not a clue,* Bucky sent back.


*** Peter ***

“I hope you’re not planning to park this thing at my house,” Peter said. Because that would be bad. The neighbors would be sure to notice.

“I’ve been meaning to put in a better hover mode,” Tony said. (He sounded serious, but something like that would be a ridiculous energy drain if it was used for any length of time. Peter couldn’t decide if that was another mark for the ‘these people are messing with you’ column or the ‘these people are really freaking geniuses’ column.)

Steve said, “We’ll drop you off and head for Stark Tower. From there we should be able to tap into the data from the Baxter Building’s sensors and get a clearer picture of what’s happening.”

Peter stared. “Right,” he said. They were just going to drop him off, because they didn’t need his help anymore. That… made sense, actually.

“Sorry for taking up your day,” Hank offered. “We really can write you a note if you want.”

He rummaged around in his brain for what the appropriate response to that might be. From the front of the jet, Phil said, “Did you want us to stay and help clean up?”

“No, it’s fine,” he said automatically. He wouldn’t mind help, actually, he just didn’t want the snooping he was pretty sure would come with it. “I’ll just —“ He gestured at the back of the jet.

“No, no, we can do better than that,” Tony said. “Door to door service.”

True to their word, he was back at his own house in ten minutes flat, and holding in a pizza delivery joke he was pretty sure they wouldn’t appreciate. It was anticlimactic, actually. Someone had thrown away the ramen when he wasn’t looking, and the computer was giving a low battery warning, but other than that, the house just looked like he’d thrown kind of a dull party. They had managed to track in a lot of dirt, though.

“The hidden life of superheroes,” he muttered. “How to get a hundred and one disgusting substances out of your carpet.” For about the millionth time that day, he was grateful Aunt May wasn’t home.

A phone rang. It wasn’t his phone, but it was definitely coming from his backpack. He dug through until his fingers came up with an unfamiliar — and decidedly out of place, compared to the rest of the contents — device. (He bet you couldn’t drop it into the river and expect it to work afterwards, though.) “Hello?”

“Hello? Who is this?”

“What? You called me,” he said. It didn’t sound like any of the kids, and who else would have the number?

“Never mind; I don’t need to know. We have a Code Five. Password callback when you’re ready. Is your GPS accurate?”

His brain stalled out on a repeat of ‘not good, not good.’ “What? Um, I think you have the wrong number?”

There was the briefest of hesitations. “Never mind my previous never mind. Who is this?”

Sometimes you just had to hope for the best. And other times you grabbed your emergency bag from the hall closet and started figuring how quickly you could get out of the city. “This is Peter Parker,” he said, pulling the bag off the closet shelf. He could ditch the phone at a bus station.

“How did you — You’re kidding me. Peter Parker? May Parker’s nephew?”

He dropped the bag. If they had Aunt May, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. “You’re seriously freaking me out here,” he said. Hey, honesty was a strategy. (It had never worked for him in the past, but there was always a first time, right?)

There was a sigh on the other end, the sound of someone who was reaching the end of their patience. At least it wasn’t just him. “Peter, this is Pepper Potts. I’m the CEO of Stark Industries; I met your aunt just recently when she became involved with the Maria Stark Foundation. I need you not to accuse me of being a supervillain and hang up on me. Code Five is not good. Where are the Avengers?”

“You must not be in New York,” he said without thinking.

“So you do know who I’m talking about.”

“Sort of? Look, I really think you should just talk with the —“ He stopped himself before he could say “kids.” “With them yourself. It’s complicated.”

“It always is.”

“I could probably go find them for you? You’ll have to give me the address for Stark Tower.”

“Are you sure you’re in New York? No, don’t answer that. I know, it’s complicated. I don’t think they’re at the Tower, though.”

He was saved from having to come up with a response to that by a knock at the door. (Aunt May didn’t like doorbells.) Then he remembered the comment about his GPS. “You didn’t, by any chance, send minions to my doorstep, did you?” he asked. Evil minions wouldn’t knock, right?

“You have a doorstep?”

The house did, in fact, have a doorstep. He looked out the window. It was currently obscured by children. “Hang on,” he said, not entirely sure he should be telling her that the people she was looking for had just arrived at his house. It looked like it was going to be a good thing that he hadn’t started cleaning yet.

He covered the phone’s receiver as carefully as possible, then opened the door, shushing them before anyone could say anything. He pointed at the phone. “Pepper Potts is on the phone?”

“Pepper!” Tony lit up like it was the best thing he’d ever heard. He made grabby motions at the phone, and Peter handed it over. “Pepper! I know what you’re going to say, but this is totally not my fault.” Whatever Pepper said in return made him wince and hold the phone away from his ear. Steve patted his arm.

“Can we come in?” Phil asked. “There’s been a slight change of plans.”

His first thought was that he was going to need to go to the store and get more food. His second was that if they were going to snoop anyway, maybe cleaning was a go too. He held the door open wider and gestured towards the kitchen. “You know the way,” he said.

Bruce paused in the doorway and gave him an apologetic shrug. “We couldn’t even get close to the Tower. There’s some kind of… something, blocking it. We’re sure it’s still there, but only because Tony threw a temper tantrum on the sidewalk, and the fire alarms went off in every building on the block.”

Tilting his head to the side was one of those Spidey-habits he kept trying to break when he wasn’t in costume. “Huh?”

“Tony can’t get in touch with JARVIS. That’s his AI — runs the building, all that stuff. I guess JARVIS doesn’t like it any more than Tony. The fire alarms were his way of letting us know he’s still there. We think.” (It sounded more like ‘we hope’ to Peter.) Bruce shrugged again. “Is it okay if I sit out here for a few minutes? I just need — a little fresh air to myself.”

Peter backed his way into the house, easing the door shut as quietly as possible, so it was easy to hear Bruce laughing at him. But come on, there was stupid and there was stupid. They’d warned him about the Hulk. He headed for the kitchen and found himself in the middle of a strategy meeting.

“The Maria Stark Foundation has to be the key,” Phil said. He was kneeling in one of the chairs at the table, reaching over to point at something on the computer.

T’Challa was at the keyboard, typing at a truly unlikely speed. He didn’t say anything, but Peter had gotten the sense earlier that silence was pretty much his thing. Jan leaned on his shoulder and waved a hand towards Phil. “No, but that doesn’t make any sense!”

“The Maria Stark Foundation shouldn’t be able to put up an impenetrable barrier around my house.” Pepper Potts was on speakerphone, and now he knew how she’d known to call, at least.

“Legally, I think it’s still considered a Stark property,” Tony called out. “We should fix that.” (Peter didn’t want to know what he was doing to the microwave.)

Hank was at T’Challa’s other shoulder. “These readings look like the robots, at least, were definitely Loki,” he said. “Thor?”

Thor was sitting on the floor again. Darcy and the wolf were curled up against him. Like everyone else, they looked like they’d been through the wringer in the brief time since he’d seen them last. Bruce’s explanation must have been highly edited. Maybe he could just turn on the news?

“The combination of technology and magic to create the robots and the machine that caused our altered appearance is certainly not beyond Loki’s abilities,” Thor said. “I do not understand the reasoning behind it, but that has been true more often than not of late.”

His spider-sense went nuts as the air shimmered in front of the sink. “The mortals have a saying about idle hands, brother. I was simply staying busy.” Peter blinked, and then there was Clint on the counter with a slingshot, and Natasha with a knife in each hand. Loki, he presumed, had arrived.

“Loki,” Thor said. He made no move to get up.

“So you can learn,” Loki said. He looked around the room before focusing on Peter and narrowing his eyes. “And you must be the spider. Aren’t you all simply adorable?”

Mostly, Peter wondered where Steve had disappeared to. And if capes actually made people more pretentious, or if it was the other way around. “Are you going for menacing?” he asked. “Creepy? Faux friendly? You’re going to have to give me the lead-up if you want the right reaction; I have enough trouble keeping up with my own villains.”

Loki frowned. “You don’t recognize me. Well, the memory slip was an — unexpected side effect. Most likely completely reversible!”

“Loki,” Thor said again, reprovingly.

“Oh, stop ‘Loki’-ing me. Phillip is right; The Maria Stark Foundation is the second piece of the puzzle.” He pivoted towards Tony. “Truly, your mother was an extraordinary woman.”

Peter turned along with everybody else to look at Tony, and had to resist the urge to groan. Was it really necessary to turn the microwave into an incendiary device?

“Yellow card,” Darcy announced from the floor, holding up her hands in the classic timeout T. “No moms. Moms are off limits.”

There was a general sense of eye-rolling and foot shuffling, but the tension in the room dropped to a lesser degree “about to aim my microwave bomb at you.” Which was good. Loki nodded in Darcy’s direction without actually conceding anything out loud.

“We need to find a Board member for the Foundation who’s not in New York,” Jan said. “Oh look, here’s a list.”

“I’ve got it,” Pepper said. There was a snatch of background noise, and then Pepper’s voice again. “Hello? Is this the director’s office?”

“This is the Interim Director, yes. What can I do for you?”

Peter choked back an exclamation. That was Aunt May’s voice.

“This is Pepper Potts,” Pepper said.

Tony called out, “And the Avengers!” from where his spot on the counter.

There was a very awkward silence. “Well,” said Aunt May. “What an honor. I suppose you all have some questions.”

Loki said, “I’m here as well, along with Mr. Peter Parker.” Peter glared at him, and Loki just raised his eyebrows. Peter was suddenly glad he was an only child.

“Peter! How are you? Are you joining the Avengers now?” Aunt May sounded — delighted, which he couldn’t figure out at all.

“I thought she didn’t know,” Natasha said in an undertone.

“I thought she didn’t!” Peter hissed back. “I’m fine, Aunt May!” he said louder. “I — community service?”

“Oh Peter,” Aunt May said. “I’ve always known you were Spiderman. It just didn’t seem like you wanted me to know, dear, so I didn’t say anything. I think it would be good for you to join a team.”

He could have a breakdown about that later, right? In the meantime — “Thanks, Aunt May. Right now they’re kids, and they roped me into rescuing them from being taken into custody this morning. Also, I’m being influenced by a memory spell, apparently.”

“Can we refocus here?” Tony said. “Why does the Maria Stark Foundation have control over my stuff?”

“It doesn’t,” Pepper said firmly.

Aunt May said, “Well, that’s true, of course. It was really only a coincidence that we were in the middle of appointing a new director at the same time some sort of magical device was activated in New York.” (Peter took a moment just to parse that sentence. He was pretty sure Loki’s expression nixed the whole “coincidence” theory.)

“And then the New York Board forgot what we were doing, and some of the older security measures we could never figure out activated themselves.”

“A security protocol,” Steve said, and Peter jumped. When had he shown up? He looked a little taller, so maybe he and Bruce had been meditating.

“Yeah, you know what’s weird about that? I don’t feel any safer,” Tony said.

“Well, the programs are from decades back. Maria Stark wrote them herself; we’re still trying to figure out how to turn them off. If you wanted to help…” She trailed off hopefully.

“Right, yes,” Tony said. “Just send everything you have to your home computer; we’ll look it over.”

Peter hid his face in his hands. Hadn’t there been enough revelations for one day? Did they really have to do the ‘yes, Aunt May, I invited a dozen strangers back to the house for no apparent reason’ reveal? (He would have thought people who worked for a secret organization would be better at actually keeping secrets.)

“Of course,” Aunt May said, sounding only mildly flustered. “Oh, and Peter?”

“Yes, Aunt May?” he said.

“Do be sure to offer them something more than just ramen noodles for dinner, all right?”

Peter sighed. “Yes, Aunt May.” She really did know everything.


*** Epilogue ***

(It took longer than just the one afternoon, to get everyone aged back up to their usual selves. Turned out that part of the spell only had two ways out, and the other one was the really long way.)

(It also turned out Director Fury hadn’t been kidding about grounding them for a month if they wrecked another jet.)

(The party once everyone was free and clear again generated sixteen new SHIELD protocols, a new record.)